Authors: Robbins Harold
"I have no right to ask you this after this evening, but would you come to Zurich with me and try to find it?"
"You have every right," Marlene said, looking directly at me. "If it weren't for you I might never have gotten free of Fritz."
"Thank you," I replied gratefully as I got to my feet. "I'll call you tomorrow after I've made plane reservations."
Marlene got up out of her chair and came over to me. She looked into my face. "Today is already tomorrow, though tomorrow is a long way off. We are both here now, without illusions, empty and alone."
Perhaps it was the way Marlene said it but suddenly I saw in her what I had seen so many times in myself. The loneliness, the aching to touch, to share, the momentary need for another human being, the fear of the dark night. Or perhaps >t was the female scent of her, the warmth emanating from her body, the glow of her flesh that not even velvet could hide. I put down my brandy glass and took her into my arms.
She was strong, stronger than I had ever thought. But I used her strength and she used mine, until we lay together in each other's arms completely spent. We were as secure in each other's warmth as two animals sleeping in the night.
CHAPTER 21
It took us three days to find the house. Three days of driving up and down streets, along wide avenues, and exploring side streets. Like every city in the world, Zurich had changed. Old landmarks were gone, new buildings stood in their place. In the end we found the house by accident.
It was toward evening and already the chill of the night had come on. Marlene's face looked tired from the strain. I leaned forward and tapped on the glass that separated us from the chauffeur. "Take us back to the hotel as quickly as possible."
I leaned back and lit a cigarette. It was like searching for the pin in a bale of hay. I closed my eyes to rest them for a few minutes when suddenly I felt her hand on my arm.
"There!" Marlene said excitedly. "That street—I'm sure it's the one!"
I leaned forward and tapped on the glass. The driver pulled over to the curb. I turned to her. "Are you positive?"
Marlene was looking out of the rear window. "I don't know," she said hesitantly, "I thought it was."
My tiredness had suddenly disappeared. "Let's make sure," I replied opening the door, "let's have a look."
The chauffeur got out and came around the car. "Wait here," I said to him, taking Marlene's arm.
We walked back to the corner and stood looking down the street. It was a section that had once seen better days but seemed now to be devoted mostly to tourists' pensions. "What do you think?"
An excitement came into Marlene's face. "I'm almost afraid to say, but it could be. I seem to remember that the house was set back farther from the sidewalk than the others. And look, there in the middle of the block, you can't see one house because it is hidden by the others."
Marlene began to walk rapidly down the street. I followed her to the front of the house and together we stood staring at it. It was the house, all right. Gray stone and with odd gables shaped almost like a tricornered hat.
"Let's go."
I took her arm and we walked up to the front entrance. I pressed the bell and in a moment the door opened on an old woman dressed in a faded maid's uniform. "Ja?"
"Herr Braunschweiger?"
She looked at us suspiciously. "Who is calling?"
Unconsciously Marlene's voice took on that authority that only the German upper class use with their servants. "Frau Marlene von Kuppen," she answered icily.
It was the Von Kuppen name that did it. The old woman all but collapsed, prostrating herself. She ushered us into a small waiting room, apologizing all the time for making us wait, and ran to fetch her master.
I stepped back into the darkest corner when I heard heavy footsteps in the hall outside. The door opened and Braunschweiger came in, a big heavyset man in his late fifties. "Frau Von Kuppen," he said, clicking his heels smartly and bowing to kiss her hand. "It is a pleasure to see you again. I am honored that you should remember."
"Herr Braunschweiger."
The slightly fatuous smile faded as I stepped out from the corner. "Herr Braunschweiger, may I present his excellency Herr Xenos, Corteguayan Ambassador to the United Nations?"
"Your excellency," he said stiffly, clicking and bowing.
"Herr Braunschweiger."
He looked at Marlene. "I do not understand," he said. "What is the purpose of this visit?"
"Ambassador Xenos can explain it far better than I," Marlene said. I noticed her stressing of the title. She knew what she was doing, for this obviously was a man impressed by titles.
"Herr Braunschweiger," I said, "I have certain important matters to discuss with you. Are we to talk standing in this uncomfortable little room?"
The arrogant tone worked. "Of course not, your excellency. Please. Come upstairs to my office."
We followed Braunschweiger up the stairs. It was a large, old-fashioned sort of room decorated in massive wood furniture of the old Teutonic school, and there was a fire going in the small grate set into the wall. He showed us to chairs, then went behind his desk and sat down. His voice was almost servile as he said, "Now, what can I do for you?"
I stared at him. "I want to know who is paying for the guns that the Von Kuppen factory in East Germany is shipping to my country."
Braunschweiger looked at me, then at Marlene, and finally back at me again. "There must be some mistake," he said. "It is my understanding that the factory is manufacturing only agricultural equipment. Besides, I would know nothing about their operations. It has been years since I was associated with the Von Kuppen Fabrik."
I stared back at him. "How many years, Herr Braunschweiger?"
He didn't answer.
"Before the war? After?"
"I don't see why that is any of your concern, sir," he answered stiffly, and got to his feet. "I see no purpose in continuing this discussion."
I remained in my chair, making my voice sound as threatening as possible. "We in the United Nations have access to a great deal of information which is not always given out to the public at large, or even to some of the governments concerned, Herr Braunschweiger. We know all about your former association with the Von Kuppen Fabrik. We also know much about your present affiliations."
I reached for a cigarette and slowly lit it to give him time to mull over what I had said. I casually let the smoke out as I continued to stare into his eyes. "We are not at this late date interested in raking over past history or bringing embarrassment to those who were involved in Von Kuppen. Particularly those who cooperate with us."
Fortunately Braunschweiger took the bait. "As a former manager of the plant, you must understand, I was in no way responsible for company policies. I was responsible only for production."
"But you were a member of the Nazi party," I said quietly.
It was a fairly safe assumption, since jobs such as his were not held by people who were not. "A very important member, actually, and as such in a position to know the purposes for which your product was intended."
Braunschweiger's face paled. He knew as well as I that toward the end of the war it was his factory that had supplied ninety percent of the poison gas used at Dachau and Auschwitz. "I knew nothing," he said stiffly. "I was merely an employee obeying orders."
"That sounds reasonable but of course you must realize that it is the exact defense offered by every defendant at the Nuremberg war trials."
"I am a Swiss citizen," Braunschweiger replied sharply. "I am protected by the Swiss constitution."
I stared at him. "How long do you think your government would protect you if they learned you had sold out to the Nazis?"
"They have done nothing to those who helped the Allies!"
"I know," I replied patiently, "but you made one grave error. You picked the wrong side, the side that lost."
Braunschweiger looked at me. He took off his glasses, then put them back on again. "It is impossible. Even if I wanted to give you such information I have no way of obtaining it."
"Too bad, Herr Braunschweiger," I said, getting up. "You realize, of course, that we can force you to testify?" I returned to Marlene. "Come, Frau Von Kuppen," I said formally, "it is useless to remain longer."
"Just a moment, your excellency!"
I turned back to Herr Braunschweiger.
"If I could manage to get you such information, this other business, it would be . . ." His words trailed off.
"It will be forgotten," I said. "No one need ever know." Which wasn't exactly accurate. I'd be willing to bet that no one could ever prove what I had managed to intuit.
Herr Braunschweiger took off his glasses again and polished them vigorously with his handkerchief. "It will not be easy. It will take me a few days."
"This is Tuesday," I replied. "My staff already has instructions to release our dossier on you Friday morning— unless they hear from me to the contrary."
"You will have the information you desire by Thursday night at the latest"
"I am staying at the Grande Hotel," I said, and looked over at Marlene. "Come, Frau Von Kuppen."
Herr Braunschweiger was still standing stiffly at attention as we went out the door.
Thursday morning Marlene stood looking over my shoulder as I read the report Herr Braunschweiger had sent by special messenger. She looked at me with a puzzled expression. "What does it mean?"
"It means we go back to Paris," I said grimly. If it meant what I thought it did, even Robert would not dare withhold the information he had denied me.
CHAPTER
22
The press descended on us like a pack of wolves as we got off the plane at Orly. The French newspapers, with their nose for scandal, were out in force. The flashbulbs popped in our faces. One of the reporters waved a newspaper headline. It was France-Soir and the bold black type sprawled all over the top half of the front page. Typically French, it could be read a block away.
PLAYBOY-DIPLOMAT ON SWISS IDYLL WITH FORMER VON KUPPEN HEIRESS!
I took Marlene's arm and bulled my way through. I was more angry with myself than at them. I should have known what to expect. Things were difficult enough as it was, and this sort of publicity wasn't going to make it any easier.
Finally, when we were almost at the car, one persistent reporter planted himself firmly in front of us. "Are you and Mrs. Von Kuppen planning to marry?"
I stared at him balefully without answering.
"Then why did you go to Switzerland?"
"To get my watch fixed, you idiot!" I said, roughly pushing him aside.
Marlene got into the car and I followed. We pulled away from the curb and Fat Cat looked back at me from his seat beside the driver. "I have a cable for you."
I took the blue envelope from his hand and opened it. I had no trouble reading it. El Presidente hadn't even bothered to put it into our simple code.
WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN EUROPE STOP GET BACK TO NEW YORK STOP THIS IS NO TIME FOR UNA PARRANDA STOP.
Una parranda. It had a peculiar meaning in our country. A wild party, an orgy. Angrily I crumpled the cablegram.
Marlene looked at me with wide eyes. "Bad news?"
"No," I answered tersely, "It's just that el Presidente is as bad as everybody else. He thinks I've been having a ball."
A faint hint of humor came into her eyes. "Well, I hope it hasn't exactly been dull."
I looked at her and I had to smile. "No, much of it wasn't bad at all."
"I thought so myself." Marlene laughed. "I doubt that I'll be able to walk for a week."
Robert sounded surprised at my voice on the telephone. "I thought you were in Switzerland."
He read the newspapers, too, it seemed. "I was," I replied. "I'd like to see you as soon as possible."
Robert hesitated a moment. "I'm very tied up today."
"It's important." I had to see him today. It was Friday, and tomorrow the Swiss banks would be closed.
He was silent for a moment. "I'm meeting my father for lunch at the Crillon. Would you like to join us? I know he would be delighted to see you."
"I'll be there."
"You're looking very well, sir."
The baron looked at me shrewdly, the old realist. "It's kind of you to say so, but the truth is I'm getting old."
A peculiar look passed between him and his son. I glanced at Robert. He seemed disturbed, peculiarly upset. "Father's been having a few aches and pains," he said. "I've been trying to convince him it's only the normal hazards of age."
The baron laughed. "How would you know? I'm the one with the years."
The waiter brought coffee, and the baron lifted his cup delicately. "I've just had a letter from Caroline. She mentioned seeing you a few weeks ago in New York."
"We had a drink together in El Morocco."
"Ah, El Morocco." The baron smiled. "It is like a club, you meet everyone there. But if you two have business to discuss go right ahead. Though I'm no longer active I'm still most interested."
"Thank you."
I meant it. Lunch was almost over and it seemed that Robert was never going to give me a chance. He didn't look particularly happy as he said, "If it's about the same subject I'm afraid my answer will still have to be no. You must be aware of our position."
"I didn't push it before, Robert," I replied, "and I won't now. But can't you reconsider your position?"
Robert was silent, a stubborn look on his face.
The baron studied us curiously. He took out a thin cigar and slowly lit it as the tension built between us. "I have no knowledge of this problem between you."
It certainly wasn't my place to tell him.
Robert looked at his father. "Dax has asked access to certain confidential and restricted information concerning our Swiss bank. I have refused it."
The baron nodded slowly. He looked down at his cigar. "Robert is quite correct," he said in a quiet voice. "Not only are the laws specific but also there is the matter of ethics."